These are the final days of my sanity
by my paper teeth
Summary: In this diary, I, Cecelia Marie Halpert record the woeful discord which is my life. Why so? I am being subjected to a summer working for Michael, whilst my parents ruin my life with even more siblings and I try to write a Michael/Dwight bromance.
1. Day 1 of the end of the world as I know

**I thought I'd try my hand at writing an Office fic, I've been writing way too much angsty angst for Victorious and I wanted to write something lighthearted. Too much angst ain't good for the soul.**

**I sadly own nothing**

**.**

I, Cecelia Marie Halpert officially disown my parents.

Why such a sudden act you ask o dearest diary of mine. Because sweet pages of my written discord, they are subjecting me to a summer's long nightmare. Nightmare you ask again, oh dear diary, it's almost too hideous to write down.

James and Pamela Halpert think that somehow, in the strange distorted universe that they believe they live in, it would be good for me to get a summer job.

At Dunder Mifflin.

Working for Michael Scott.

Kill me now.

.

**Day 1 of the end of the world as I know it.**

.

**10:40**

My parents think it will be a useful exercise for me to record this summers events so to not only enhance my writing skills, or said lack of, but to also make a momentum of my forthcoming business enrichment. By business enrichment I mean the job I now have at their office.

Erin (no I will not call her 'Aunty Erin' as she always insists) is on maternity leave, leaving me ample opportunity to step in and earn some cash. I really want to buy a car next year when I turn sixteen, so I guess maybe it's worth it. Maybe.

My dad set me up with the job, saying 'It'll be fun and you'll have your money in only a couple of months.'

I then reminded him that that would mean I'd have to work for Michael for '_only a couple of months_'

He then promptly offered to match whatever I earned so that the expos- I mean duration of my stay would be lessened.

My dad just gets me.

.

I guess this diary will be useful in other ways. Like they always say on TV that letting your feelings out is good for you, so I'm writing all the bad things away. The bad, bad Michael related things away.

It'll also prove useful source of information for when they finally decided to explore Michael Scott's brain in the autopsy that they will eventually have to do. I'm pretty sure he'll die in a office related accident, like when he finally whacks his head too hard into the keyboard, or like from a heart attack from all the ice-cream cake he eats.

Though it could happen in his home. He recently informed me that he has finally completely Tube Word mark 0.2 in his shed, and I'm pretty sure that in a couple of months all the hamsters will revolt and kill him in the most inhumane way possible. Possibly, a tube through the heart. Maybe that's how you kill a Scott. Like a vampire, but without the stake, more like with a fluorescently coloured tube to the heart.

That'll probably be what they find; a small hamster controlling him from behind his eyes.

I always thought it would be an alien who didn't understand modern conventions and how to actually speak without offending.

My dad thinks it's more likely to be a small monkey.

He's probably right.

.

Though scratch out that last sentence. I refuse to even think of those two selfish, mean beasts that call themselves my parents.

Why you ask? Because they thought it would be nice for me to have yet another sibling. Like four sisters isn't already enough. Oh no, its not like I resent having a large family.

Really it's taught me several valuable life skills, like how to withstand a lack of privacy, which I know isn't a real skill, but if I ever want to go to a nudist beach, I'll have no problems.

Having four sisters is nice and all, but really a fifth?

Of course dad is convinced it's going to be a boy, but really, you would have thought having five daughters already, he would have made a little more of an educated guess.

I think he's cursed to a life of testosterone deprivation. That what you get for being unfairly tall, and NOT PASSING IN ON TO YOUR LOVING DAUGHTER.

Another reason for me 'loving' my parents oh so much is their overflowing genetic generosity.

Seriously though, they could have had like six-foot tall boobtastic kids, and instead they give birth to me, Cecelia 'washboard' Halpert the fourth shortest girl in my homeroom class.

Thanks mom and dad. Thanks a lot.

.

I really hope now this new kid is like freakishly tall and with astronomically large breasts.

Actually do you know what? I changed my mind. I would like this child to be a boy.

And still a giant.

And still with boobs. Yep, man boobs. 'Moobs'.

And then the cosmic balance of the universe cosmic karma thang will be restored.

Hehe man boobs.

Oh God, I'm giggling like Kevin.

The madness has begun!

.

**11:04**

I'm not actually working today, that starts tomorrow. But seeing as this is basically the last day of my sanity, I'll count it as the first day of my downfall. How poetic. Well not for long. As all my lucid thoughts are pulled from my brain out through my ear I will lose all ability to coherently form sentences.

I'll be reduced to just saying whatever thought comes into my head without pause for contemplation.

I will basically become Michael.

And that thought scares me deeply.

.

**11:36**

Am I a bitter person? I really hope not. That Angela woman is bitter, like severely bitter.

And blonde.

And short.

Oh sweet brother Bee Gee, I'm becoming Angela!

.

**13:05**

Calming myself down from that scary thought took me an hour and a half, a long bath and half a tub of ice cream. Well actually it only took me half an hour, then I forgot about it, then came back to my diary, read it again and promptly began to re-freak. But I am now very well bathed.

I think the thing, which is freaking me out most about working in the Office, is Michael. Yep, definitely just Michael.

I like Holly, his wife a lot, but you know how you have those couples, and one is the other's other's antidote. They are not that kind of couple. At all. If anything she just fuels him. Adds fuel to the fire which is Michael Scott.

Mom showed me a video of Michael when he as younger and I guess I can kinda see where all his Michaelness came from. Haha, 100 kids. I feel sorry for Holly, well just 100 more to go then.

.

**13:06**

I really do need to stop being bitter.

.

**13:30 **

I've realised that, seeing as I carry round this diary everywhere (an inherent fear that my sisters will find it if I have it anywhere other than upon my person) this will be what the police will use to identify me. Its not really a diary diary, more like an old address book which I found with a picture of one of those freakishly large eyed kittens, to which I promptly added tears of blood, large amounts of facial hair and the words 'My Diary'. Hopefully the police will have detectives skilled enough, who can work upon that written clue and realize that this is in fact, my diary.

Well hello friendly police men of the Scranton area, if you cannot already identify my resemblance to Matilda Halpert, a girl which you are all already acquainted with, then I must be either a charred mess on someone's basement's floor or a body without a head. These thoughts are gruesome, I know, but I have to be prepared for the worst. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best. My hope is that my head remains attached to my body.

Here are some fact you might like to know about me.

**1.** I am, at this point in time, fifteen years old, but I look way younger. My mum says my blue 'doe-like' eyes are just deceiving. That's nice and all, but that is crap. I look like a bug-eyed eight year old. She says my curse will soon turn to my advantage. When she means soon, she means when I'm thirty and will find it extremely flattering to be IDed. She still gets IDed in supermarkets, so I guess she can sympathize with me. Seriously she does. She's like in her forties but hasn't changed a bit. The same with my dad, they look no different from the pictures of their wedding. I sometimes think they sold their souls for immortality. So they could be together forever AND KEEP ON HAVING MORE BLOODY BABIES.

**2. **As aforementioned. I have quite a few siblings. At this point in time 4 and a half, though I'm pretty sure that number will continue to grow. And grow. And grow. Their names are as follows; Matilda (13), Mary (12), Angelica (9), Victoria (6) and unborn foetus (7 months.)

**3.** I'm blonde. Well closer to a hybrid mix of dirty blonde and caramel. So a 'Dirty Caramel'. That actually sounds more like a stripper name than a hair colour. Moving on… It's a little bit pink too, from the time my sister, Angelica and I dyed our hair pink for Halloween, but we accidentally used permanent dye instead of semi. Through numerous washing and bleaching and dyeing I eventually got my hair back to near natural colour, but mom was all 'I don't want my Jelly using bleach and dye, it might get into her brain.' I did then point out to her that her hair was already dyed, so the damage was already done. I probably shouldn't have used the word 'damage'. Jelly now has to grow it out, poor thing, though I think, she likes looking like a troll.

**4.** I will probably be wearing pink. I don't know why but I love the colour. You probably gathered that from the previous fact. I'm really, really not like one of those wannabe valley girls would reek of fake tan and look like they'll gouge out your eyes if you say that you don't own the version eight of the iPhone. It's a real threat people! Well anyway I like pink. Well all icecream colours. And unicorns. I really don't see what's so girly about a horse with a sword attached to its head. I actually sounded just like Dwight then. The madness has truly set in.

.

**14:35**

Haha Adam just sent me a really funny text

'I decided to burn some calories today. So I set a fat kid on fire.'

Oh it's so funny because its so true.

I retract that statement. Adam is probably the sweetest man-boy you'll ever meet. He's literally the biggest dork too. He sends me all these texts all day long, which leaves me no other option than the retaliate in the most vicious way possible. To text back.

He also lives next door which is handy when our fridge is empty. His house is identical to mine but minus the shag carpeting and the creepy clown picture. And minus the four other wailing, screaming, troll haired sisters.

He just has a very lovely older brother. Did I say lovely? I just meant kind. Yes.

We've lived in the same house my whole life. It's pretty cute if your into that whole seventies thang and all our dead pets are buried in the garden and I don't think I could ever leave them.

And the shag pile carpeting definitely reduces carpet burns when you're dragged across it, and the yellow walls went a long, long time ago. My mum and my sister Mary are perpetually changing their colours. There are cans upon cans of paint sitting by the back door in case the feeling suddenly takes Mary. Which for your information diary, happens a lot. I once returned home to find mine and Jelly's room a repulsive shade of mauve. We refused to talk to her until it was nothing short of a perfect periwinkle.

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**14:40**

Periwinkle's a very funny word. Laughing at it sort of eases the pain of knowing all the torment I'll be subjected to tomorrow from ole' Uncle Michael.

.

**18:05**

I asked mom when she got home, why Michael always insists he's my uncle, and she replied.

'Because he thinks that one can't rebel against their uncle. Especially a _fun _uncle.'

My life now has an aim.

.

**21:45**

I'm really scared now, just under 11 hours before I meet with Erin to officially take over her duties. So very, very scared.

**.**

**I really hope that was alright. It was fun being able to define Cecelia as _I_ envisioned her with out any preset characteristics. If anyone was wondering, I'm ignoring the painful, painful fact that Steve Carell is leaving the Office, its just too depressing. In my mind Michael Scott wouldn't ever leave, even if he was kicked out. So the office in fifteen years is basically the same as it is presently. Which is the way it should be.**

**Enjoyed it? Despised it? Any ideas? Reviews are lovely, lovely things which will help me improve greatly upon my disastrous writing skills. **


	2. Day 2 of the loss of my sanity

**There is no excuse for how late this is, but, certain material took me a long time to well, force myself to write.**

**I still own nothing**

**.**

**Day 2 of the loss of my sanity**

**.**

**9:01**

I am officially an employee at Dunder Mifflin. I'm sitting at my desk now at reception. You know I have a good feeling about this. Maybe it might be fun. You know working with my parents, learning the ropes of a modern day office. You'll see diary I'm going to last all day long.

.

**9:04**

BOOOOOOOORDEM

God, if you're real up there, why? Why do you torment me so with such drab surrounding? Such BORDEM?

I've answered five calls already, and I don't want to be braggy, but I'm a bit of a pro.

You see, Matilda stole one of the phones when she was seven for a show and tell, and since then I have trained myself in the ways of receptionism.

Three way call? Gotcha. Need to connect to accounting? In a flash! Calling one of Dwight's task forces? Super speedy.

Erin came in an hour ago to show me the ropes, which was incredibly sweet of her, but she's nine months pregnant and I was a little wary that she shouldn't be exerting herself, especially with twins in her tummy.

She showed me the shredder and the fax machine, which were kinda cool. If you have a stationary fetish. Or a love of mechanical groans. Which I don't.

After the fifth time of her being unable to reach the release button on the printer because of her bump, I told her I'd work it out. I think she was grateful because it meant she could of have a nap in Michael's office.

You see, as soon as Michael found out the women's room had a sofa in it, which is an equally funny story, he demanded he got one for his office. Which then transpired into him buying a fish tank, three carton of custard and a fold out bed. You really don't want to know.

Anyhow, whilst Erin was having a nap, I got to play with Walt, her and Andy's three-year-old son.

He really is just the cutest thing ever. I've baby-sat him a few times and all he does is sing and dance. It's adorable. Though his name…

Well I'm not really one to dispute over name. Cecelia? I sound like a sugary blonde princess. And okay I'm blonde, but I really wish my name would contradict it. Like Ruby or Melissa or Prudence. No, definitely not Prudence.

Mum told me that they named him Walt, partly as a dig at Andy's parents, and partly because of the Bernards' love of Disney show tunes. Which both father and son, sing all of the time AND NEVER STOP.

His cuteness makes up for it though.

Oops, got to go, Michael's just walked in, and I really, really do not want him to know I have a diary.

.

**9:06**

Oh good lord.

What just happened?

Michael entered, that's what.

He entered this office holding balloons, which were practically screamed 'It's a Girl' is garish pink letters and on seeing me, cried out 'If it isn't my darling godchild Cece!'

And dad, not even looking up from his screen, reminded Michael that I'm not his godchild and nor have I ever been, and also asked what the balloons were for.

Michael actually looked quiet offended and replied saying 'Well I'm sorry for loving her more than you do. And I am practically her father. I don't see you going out and searching for an hour for the exact same balloons I had for when she was born.'

And then he turned to me and was all like 'My, my, look how you've grown.'

And I was like 'But Michael you saw me like a year a go, and I really haven't grown, at all.'

So I stood up to get the balloons from him and he looked at my chest and just kinda mumbled 'Yep your right there' and scuttled off into his office.

My mom just turned round from her desk and said 'Welcome to office Baby. Hey Jim, she's pulling your face.' And they both just giggled.

They're meant to jump to my rescue! To defend me from the evil that is 'The Scott'! I'm going to have fierce words with them later. Fierce I tell you, fierce!

Geez, what did he expect? I'm fifteen!

.

**10:45**

I've realized that if I type my diary instead of write, it looks like I'm working. Sneaky! Only one hour and forty-five minutes in and I'm already procrastinating. Not that there's much to do.

.

**11:00**

I wrote a couple of paragraphs for my Michael/Dwight bromance. It's coming along quite nicely

_A small triangle of milky skin peeked out from Michael's favourite shade of mustard_,_ and it took all his inner strength to remove his gaze from that geometric temptation. _

'_I'm an amazing salesman, Michael,' Dwight remarked boldly, but with his eyes downcast, he whispered into his collar 'Almost as amazing as I am a lover.'_

'_How did that even enter the conversation?'_

'_I just wanted to show you my passion Michael.'_

'_Why would you do that, you idiot.'_

'_Because you should know passion plays a big part in many things.'_

'_Like what Dwight, like what?' Michael's anger flushed across his face in a deep red haze. _

'_Like business and social events.'_

'_Any you don't think I have passion for social events?'_

'_Michael, I never -'_

_Michael cut him off by opening the draw of his large desk, removing a clear glass bowl filled half way with a thick green paste._

'_I put a lot of passion into my guacamole, so don't say I don't know what passion is. Taste the passion Dwight!' _

_Michael stood, a spoon in hand and thrust it at the shocked Dwight, who slowly tasted the sweet dip._

'_It's the best I've ever had' Dwight commented, looking deep into his superior's eyes._

'_That's what she said' Michael remarked, suddenly gentle 'That's what she said Dwight'_

_..._

I haven't quite got the characterisation right, but honestly it's hard to imagine anyone talking like that. Well except Michael.

I'm quite worried about my sanity though, but in all fairness, its Michael who's the one that has warped my mind over the past fifteen years, so the blame is all on him. And lets not forget Dwight, and his impressive skill to make any child fear any animal. Even meerkats.

.

**11:30**

I love 'that's what she said's. Probably the only facet of Michael, which I glad to have had bestowed upon me.

Though because of him, art class is actually painful to be in. Everyone is intent on making loud innuendos and being completely naive to the fact they just shouted something completely inappropriate to the 'clouded' mind. The amount of TWSS worth content that is actually makes me contemplate sewing my mouth shut due to the urge. The TWSS urge.

Like one time, a fellow student o'mine was getting grilled for being too slow, because she was including too much detail. Which to me, kinda sounds like the definition of 'art'.

Teacher – you're putting in too much detail, you're taking too long, stop being so anal.

Student – but I've go to include detail!

Teacher – look, I don't mind a little anal.

Cue my brain melting.

And another example springs to mind, with my teacher rubbing some emulsion excitedly whilst saying 'you have to rub it to excite it!'

If I had known art would be so mentally arduous, I wouldn't have taken it.

.

**12:06**

I've just realized something. My sisters and me are like the Von Trapp children in how blonde we are. Or like the Lisbon Girls from the Virgin Suicides.

Oh God, Me and Mary share names with them. Are my parents setting us up for something.? We are all blonde and live in a house that looks like the seventies threw up in it.

I don't think I want to kill myself.

.

**12:07**

I just glanced into Michael's office and it looks like he's moved Tube World back into his office.

.

**12:08**

Okay I retract that statement.

I don't want to kill myself. _Yet._

_._

**12:10**

That really is their plan! They've stuck me in an office with the brewing bromance of Michael Scott and Dwight Schrute in the hope I might off myself, so my sisters will follow and they can continue to have more babies and living together in the immorally attainted immortality.

.

**12:12**

I'm so depressed now that my parents plan is actually possibly working. They've stuck me into a vicious circle! I've realised their plans, which makes me very depressed, and then from realising that their plan is then progressing even more, I get further depressed. Oh World! Save me!

.

**12:24**

Texted Adam to share my discord. Should I have been surprised that he would be so unwaveringly supportive?

'Michael's building Tube World again. But with guinea-pigs. He keep on rearranging to try and make it fit.'

'That's what she said'

'This is serious Adam. I could totally die from over exposure to idiocy here.'

'Should I call Batman?'

'Nah we need a real expert in here'

'Dwight?'

'I think this is too big even for him'

'Well I wish you the best of luck. Only the good die young. Farewell.'

Of course his mourning period over the loss of his best friend in the whole wide wonderfully woeful world was five minutes and thirteen seconds. Though a remarkable minute and six seconds longer than his pet rabbit. I mean that much to him. Dead rodents aside, it took him just shy of five minutes to text back saying.

'So, seeing as you're dead its okay if I can have your comic collection, oh and you're high score at Robot Unicorn Attack?'

I'm an absolute don at robot unicorn attack. No one can match my fiery hooves of destiny and perfectly pointed horn of justice. Bring it on bitches.

His obvious extreme depression was practically leaking from his next text.

'Don't worry, seeing as you're dead, don't worry about texting back, I'll just get them myself.'

.

**12:33**

Sadness. I think being blonde is taking over my life.

.

**12:35 **

All depressing thoughts have been banished with the promise of lunch in five minutes. Life is good again, thanks to you, dearest ham and cheese sandwich.

.

**2:04**

Okay maybe I love my parents again. They were like 'oh dearest favourite child, would you like to escape this terrible prison of torment' and I was like 'absofruitly!'

We snuck out of the office for an extra long lunch, my ham and cheese sandwich soon forgotten when they proposed we go to the zoo.

You can never be too old for the zoo. Fact.

Turns out the café at the Zoo still does pretty good pizza. They have cheese in the shape of dinosaurs.

We used to go there when I was little to look at all the zebras and monkeys and videos of extinct animals like polar bears, and if Michael continues, soon guinea-pigs too.

We still go there every Easter as a family tradition, and as it turns out the 'safari' pizza is still as damn delicious as it was a few months ago.

Though the fact the waiter asked if I wanted the kids menu did put a little bit of a damper on the whole thing.

As it turns out Michael didn't notice we were gone. He ate a pie for lunch. Do I need to explain any further? He was still asleep when we got back and was blissfully unaware, though Dwight was, as always completely aware.

Another reason I love my dad. He has this inhuman ability to deflect Dwight and all his Dwightness, yes people; Dwightness is a very, very real thing.

It's become this thing we do in our house. If someone does anything even remotely Dwight like, it's up to the rest of us Halperts to point this out by shouting loudly 'Scrute!' usually in the place of a adjective. For example if like Vicky spouts out another one of her animal facts, one of us might say 'Ooo someone's getting a little Schrutey.'

It's an extremely effective method of character building.

We also have 'Scotting' something. That has been known to reduce said victims to tears.

Anyway, dad merely deflected Dwight's questioning by chucking a toy bear at his face. It was plastic. It did indeed shut him up. With the powah of pain.

It was a little while before he then began again spouting out the inaccuracies of the bear toy, apparently the doll has an inadequate number of canines and will apparently stave to death due to its inability to eat meat. Fact.

.

**4:17**

Maybe if I blended all of the bear's meat he could lead a relatively normal life. And maybe even find love in the process.

I believe in you Wilbur.

.

**I literally had this sitting on my desktop for ages, just not the bromance part, which for the love of me, I just could not squeeze it out. I'd sit down and say 'right, write it now!' It was a bitter fight with my sanity, but I finally got it in the end. **

**Any ideas you want to include? Anything or anyone you want to see? Or just a lovely comment or critique, all is welcome. **


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